<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Wishing To Avoid An Unpleasant Scene by Anonymous</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554521">Wishing To Avoid An Unpleasant Scene</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Ending, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Mentions of George Harrison, Not A Fix-It, Self-Harm, You Have Been Warned, ending is up to you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:53:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul stiffened, his clenched fist hovering over the classroom door.</p><p>He was already nervous and he hadn't yet spoken about the test he had failed. He studied so hard for this! Paul was sure he would've gotten a passing grade. </p><p>It all led him here. Lennon had asked Paul to see him after classes to discuss any sort of way to bump his grade up.</p><p>God, just fucking knock and get this over with.</p><p>And knock he did, although shaking a bit.</p><p>"Come in." Came a voice from inside.<br/>_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-<br/>Sorry for any mistakes, I don't proof read.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Graphic rape, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paul stiffened, his clenched fist hovering over the classroom door.</p><p> </p><p>He was already nervous and he hadn't yet spoken about the test he had failed. He studied so hard for this! Paul was sure he would've gotten a passing grade. </p><p> </p><p>It all led him here. Lennon had asked Paul to see him after classes to discuss any sort of way to bump his grade up.</p><p> </p><p><em> God </em> , <em> just fucking knock and get this over with. </em></p><p> </p><p>And knock he did, although shaking a bit.</p><p> </p><p>"Come in." Came a voice from inside. Paul wasted no time and slowly walked in, quietly closing the door behind him and sitting in his usual spot, right in the front. Mr. Lennon was grading a few papers and scribbling notes on each, almost not noticing Paul's presence. </p><p> </p><p>It was quiet for a while before the professor set his pen down and stood, walking over to lean against the front of his desk with crossed arms, intimidating Paul more than he normally did.</p><p> </p><p>"So," He started, staring intently at Paul. "What do you reckon we should do about <em> this </em>test?"</p><p> </p><p>Paul didn't say a word, looking down at his desk and reading over the carved symbols in it.</p><p> </p><p>"Well?" </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, uhm. I was.. I was thinking I could do an extra assignment this time, Mr. Lennon…?"</p><p> </p><p>"Paul, we've been over this. You can call me John. Christ, we're both adults, you know."</p><p> </p><p>When nothing came from Paul, he turned around and walked back to his desk chair, motioning for Paul to come over. He did as he was told, standing awkwardly next to his professor who sat comfortably. </p><p> </p><p>"What are you waiting for?" John questioned. "You know what to do, Paulie."</p><p> </p><p>Paul inwardly gagged at that pet name, doing as John had asked and sat on his lap. He picked up the pen and got to grading the papers, trying to ignore the roaming hands on his thighs that got closer and closer to his crotch as he continued to write. </p><p> </p><p>Paul wished he had never come for help weeks ago. When Paul had come after class in hopes of bumping his grade up, he hadn't expected John to offer something out of this world.</p><p> </p><p>For a passing grade each week, he wanted Paul to…. do things.</p><p> </p><p>John had Paul cornered, threatening to fail him if he backed out or spoke about this to anyone.</p><p> </p><p>And in Paul's sick and twisted mind, grades were so important that he wouldn't dare disappoint his father with low scores. Somewhere in his mind, he knew this was some fucked up shit, but he was in too deep by now. Even if he did tell on John now, what would happen to Paul? His school would kick him out, his father would disown him, and Paul would most likely be thrown into jail, being accused of acting on his <em> homosexual tendencies. </em></p><p> </p><p>So what if he <em> were </em> gay? Would that be much of a problem? He would just happen to be like that, and has unfortunately fallen into the greedy hands of the wrong person that has drascrically ruined his life.</p><p> </p><p>….</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is he queer for doing this..? </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>A sharp pinch to his inner thigh brought him back to the reality of it all. The hands were still roaming and touching, and he was still here, John doing as he pleased with him. Everytime he remembered, he hoped that it was all a bad dream and he would wake up and laugh it off.</p><p> </p><p>But those hands.. They kept snaking about and touching what they could, one hand had managed to reach under the hem of his shirt and delicately trace a finger around his nipple. It sent shivers over his body, a tent in his pants unwillingly rising before him. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, well. Seems like you do enjoy our little sessions, aye Mr. McCartney?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck, he noticed. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Paul said nothing, and John took the silence as a queue to rub at Paul's clothed erection. </p><p> </p><p>He hissed, a hot blush burning in his cheeks as a pool of heat began to form in his stomach. Paul had abandoned writing at this point, his focus on blocking everything out and hoping John would finish already so he could go home and <em> cry </em>. </p><p> </p><p>But John pulled his hands away.</p><p> </p><p>Paul zoned back in, the lack of contact raising alarm bells in his head.</p><p> </p><p>"Stand up."</p><p> </p><p>Paul did as he was told, meekly standing and trying to hide the tent still present in his pants. John didn't say anything, instead going for a drawer to the right and digging through until he eventually pulled out a small, plastic square.</p><p> </p><p>Paul watched from the corner of his eye, and that's when realization hit him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh shit, he's going to do it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh shit fuck fuck fuck </em>
</p><p> </p><p>That was when John roughly bent him over the desk, one hand on the back of Paul's head, pushing down, while the other twisted his arm in such a painful way that had Paul protesting in agony.</p><p> </p><p>"What-... What the hell are you doing?!"</p><p> </p><p>The hand on his head was now groping and going for Paul's belt, making the younger one yell even louder. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> THIS ISN'T SUPPOSE TO HAPPEN. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> DO SOMETHING. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>After successfully undoing it, he tied Paul's wrists behind his back, a small whimper echoing throughout the empty classroom.</p><p> </p><p><em> It's better to not fight it and get it over with as soon as possible. </em> Paul thought in his deformed logic, taking this advice by trying his best to stay still, even though he was shivering in fear.</p><p> </p><p>"Look at you. Just waiting for my cock, aren't ya? Fucking little <em> queer </em>." John snarled, giving emphasis by groping Paul's cock and earning a delicious moan from him. </p><p> </p><p>John couldn't wait any longer. He unbuttoned and unzipped Paul's pants. With a swift motion, his pants and undergarments were down to his knees.</p><p> </p><p>Red hot shame flared on Paul's face as he tried to stand straight before being pushed back down by John. "C'mon, stay still, love. I'll be gentle." John mocked, tracing that fucking finger of his over Paul's puckered hole.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I'm going to fucking vomit </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His mouth began to water and he resisted the urge to vomit, dry heaving in the process. That would have only added to this horrible experience.</p><p> </p><p>But Paul's reactions had not stopped John. He continued to touch him, going over his shaking figure with delicate hands. He squeezed at Paul's hips, savoring the small yelp that emitted from the student. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn't wait any longer. It's all too much.</p><p> </p><p>Paul tried to break his wrists free, but his belt wouldn't budge. How he wished someone would walk in on them and call for help.</p><p> </p><p>But the thought of that filled him with dread. What if they told on him and got him into trouble? Clearly he was being forced. Would someone be fucked up enough to twist the story and get Paul in deep shit?</p><p> </p><p>Yeah. They would.</p><p> </p><p>Now he hoped no one would show up, and instead wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole, right then and there.</p><p> </p><p>The situation he was in brought him back to reality.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This is real. This is happening. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Not being able to hold back any longer, droplets ran down his cheeks, staining and smudging the papers his face was pressed against. Paul sobbed as he felt two fingers pry open his mouth and swirl against his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>After John's fingers were lubricated, he pulled out with a disgusting <em> pop </em>and slowly began to apply pressure onto Paul's hole. Surely enough, Paul spasmed and tried his best to pull away, do anything, but to no avail. He was stuck on a desk with his teacher molesting him.</p><p> </p><p>He was overcome with another wave of realization of the situation and he wept, beginning to hyperventilate as the fingers finally pushed in. John showed no mercy and forced his appendages as far as they would go, making Paul scream in sheer terror and agony. His nails dug into his palms, causing blood to prickling out of them, but the pain in his ass was the only thing he could feel at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>The pain was so great that he began to blackout, trying his best to stay awake in order to prevent anything other than rape from happening.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What if John killed him after this? Wanting to keep his job as teaching, ridding of him and silencing Paul forever from telling the truth?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't as absurd as he thought. Some people are really fucked in the head.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't find a way to stop focusing on the ache to ease his mind and body, and the way John was harshly bending and twisting his fingers was not helping. It felt like someone was shoving razors up his ass.</p><p> </p><p>After what seemed like an eternity to Paul, John stopped and pulled out. But the sound of plastic being torn made Paul's breath stop for a moment, registering the fact that this was actually going to happen and it wasn't a nightmare or some sick joke. He is going to be fucked by his teacher. A man.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He didn't care if someone walked in on them. He wouldn't give a shit if he was blamed for this. It would be better than this. Anything would be better than this.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Please, anyone please help, oh god fuck fuck. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Time seemed to stop when Paul's hole was breached by John's head. His breathing stopped, and so did John. Everything was still for a moment, no noise other than the air conditioning making a peep. It felt unreal to Paul.</p><p> </p><p>But it was gone just as quick as it happened. Paul came back to his senses and so did the ache in his bottom. Then he screamed, so sudden and unexpected that his ears ached under the noise.</p><p> </p><p>John was quick to clamp a hand over Paul's mouth, the screaming continuing, only muffled now.</p><p> </p><p>"Shh.. It's okay, McCartney. Just let it happen, love." John whispered, somehow reaching Paul's ears even though he was now sobbing loudly and uncontrollably into his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Then, John pushed further in, forcing the smaller one into another attempt at pulling away, but John was stronger. His nose nuzzled against Paul's sweaty hair, taking in the light smell of… strawberry shampoo?</p><p> </p><p><em> He really is queer. </em>John thought to himself, grunting as he tried to push himself all the way in, finding it difficult as the boy clenched around him rather tightly. But it only made him harder and want to fuck his student raw, something he fantasized about ever since he laid eyes on the delicate boy.</p><p> </p><p>"God, has anyone ever fucked you before?" John asked suddenly, taking Paul by surprise. "Even after stretching you, you're still so fucking tight."</p><p> </p><p>Paul couldn't (and would not) answer that. He was still weeping at the intrusion and soreness that came along with it.</p><p> </p><p>John continued to force himself into him, groaning as the other shook like a leaf under him. It made him feel powerful and dominant to have such control over the boy. The hand that covered Paul's mouth moved to pull his hair back, a groan emitting from him at the awkward angle.</p><p> </p><p>"Please-.. Please stop, please." Paul stammered quietly, voice nasally and rough from his screaming and sobbing. "Please let me go, I won't tell-.. I won't tell anyone. Please."</p><p> </p><p>But John grinned wickedly, placing a small kiss on Paul's sweaty neck.</p><p> </p><p>"Can't do that, love. I gotta have you."</p><p> </p><p>That was when John fully pushed himself to the hilt. </p><p> </p><p>Paul only gasped, gaping his mouth open and close like a fish out of water. He was motionless for a while, staring wide eyed at nothing before coming back to his senses. His breathing was erratic and his body was tense from the horrible soreness spreading everywhere. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, scream until his voice gave out, but he couldn't. His mouth was dry from the heavy breathing and he had already spent his voice earlier. Paul was weak, both physically and emotionally at this point.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Justgetitoverwith. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He pleaded to John mentally, who seemed to have read his mind as he pulled out and slammed back in. Another scream from McCartney.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, keep yellin'." John growled, thrusting at a painfully slow pace intended to hurt Paul. "Get someone's attention so they can walk in on you and see how much of a bitch you are."</p><p> </p><p>Paul fiddled with the belt around his wrists, trying to find a way to untie himself now that John was distracted. But it was strapped <em> tightly </em> to him.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't bother with that." John wiggled the belt, chuckling. "'Is nice and cozy and won't be coming off anytime soon."</p><p> </p><p>Paul squeezed his eyes shut, both the pain and the shame getting to him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There has to be a way to get away. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I can't handle this anymore. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a knock on the door, both men freezing from their spots and turning to the door.</p><p> </p><p>"John?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Self harm near end of chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the janitor, Ringo. Paul could recognize that voice anywhere.</p><p> </p><p>Being the lonely type himself, Paul had the opportunity to get to know him a bit whenever he could. Whether it be during lunch, after school, and even in the early mornings. He was a very nice man, sometimes Paul would see him as a father figure.</p><p> </p><p>Having Ringo see Paul like this embarrassed him beyond relief.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Shit </em>." John hissed under his breath, slipping out of Paul and pulling him back before forcing him under the desk. It was small and cramped, and Paul certainly didn't like it.</p><p> </p><p>"Better stay down here. Don't do it, and I'll <em> kill </em>you."</p><p> </p><p>Paul shuddered at that. </p><p> </p><p>Somewhere in him, Paul knew John was capable of committing such an act.</p><p> </p><p>So he buried himself deeper into the desk and kept his mouth shut, fearing for his life.</p><p> </p><p>John slipped off the condom before he tucked his member into his pants and zipped up, heading to the door to see what the man wanted. Paul, curiosity taking the best of him, peeked from behind to see the altercation between the two men.</p><p> </p><p>John swung open the door, and it was indeed Ringo.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, Rings! My good friend. What brings you about, eh?" John spoke in a friendly manner. </p><p> </p><p>The janitor pressed his lips in a thin line.</p><p> </p><p>"Just came to check on you. Heard screamin' n all. Right down this hallway, actually." He looked over John's shoulder and into the class, and he gave Ringo a puzzled look.</p><p> </p><p>"Screaming?" Ringo nodded. "Sorry, had me music on. Don't think I heard it." John spoke in a convincing tone, shrugging his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>"Could've been some kids messing about." John suggested, to which Ringo agreed. "You know how some of them are, especially that George boy. Always causing trouble."</p><p> </p><p>Paul's heart skip a beat. Several, in fact.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be sure to teach him a lesson one of these days."</p><p> </p><p>They both laughed, one oblivious to the meaning behind it.</p><p> </p><p>No way in <em> hell </em> was he getting near George. That was his best friend, and Paul would rather be in this situation over George.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I better get back to grading papers, got some students to fail." They shared another laugh before Ringo excused himself. John watched the man turn the corner, footsteps and keys jangling echoing in the usually noisy halls.</p><p> </p><p>He waited until Ringo turned the corner and shut the door, deciding to lock it. He buried the key deep into his pocket with a malevolent grin.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just in case. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Now, where were we, McCartney?"</p><p> </p><p>John walked over to his desk, only to find that Paul wasn't there.</p><p> </p><p>His head spun around, looking frantically for Paul. No sign of him.</p><p> </p><p>"Paulie? Where'd you run off to?" He still had to be in the room, no way could he have slipped out of here without John noticing. He bent over to peek under all the student desks, straightening himself when he found nothing. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"McCartneeey? Come out, my little snow bunny." John teased, walking over to the only other placed Paul could hide in.</p><p> </p><p>He placed his hands on the handles of the storage closet, preparing himself to catch Paul if he tried to run away or tried anything funny.</p><p> </p><p>"Gotcha!" He swung them open.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing. Just a clutter of books and unused school supplies. Hmm.</p><p> </p><p>"Pau-"</p><p> </p><p>A book collided with the side of John's head, knocking him down.</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck?!" He yelled out as the classroom spun. John turned to his back and looked up at Paul, who had managed to pull his pants back up. He definitely noticed the book in his…  </p><p> </p><p>Still trapped hands.</p><p> </p><p>John could still win.</p><p> </p><p>Paul raised the book above his head, a strange look in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, hey!" John tried. "Paul, Paul I'm sorry! Please! Jesus fuck!"</p><p> </p><p>Something faltered in Paul that almost made him hit John in the head again.</p><p> </p><p>He threw the book down, and it landed with a thunderous <em> thud </em> right next to John's head. He most likely lost his hearing because of it.</p><p> </p><p>It took a moment for John to realize what he'd done. He stood up slowly, never looking away from Paul.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey-"</p><p> </p><p>"Untie me." Paul muttered. "Get this shit off me."</p><p> </p><p>John nodded, slowly going for the belt and unbuckling it. As soon as it slipped off, Paul began to walk backwards, never looking away from the teacher. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Make a run for it. Fucking run. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Paul did run, only to be sent into a state of panic when he realized that the door was locked. He jiggled the door knob, frantically trying to push and pull it open.</p><p> </p><p>He needed a fucking <em> key </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Paul spun back around, back pressed tightly against his only way out. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> nonononono </em>
</p><p> </p><p>John approached him, a sly grin on his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Looking for this?" He dug through his pocket and there it was. Paul's way out.</p><p> </p><p>A small, metal key never looked so enticing until now.</p><p> </p><p>"Open the door."</p><p> </p><p>John snickered. "I can't do that Paul."</p><p> </p><p>"Just let me go…. God, please." Paul tried, but much to his dismay, John shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>"Even if I let you go, would anyone believe you, Paul?" John stepped closer to Paul, who pressed himself deeper into the door.</p><p> </p><p>"Why would anyone believe a little queer like you? Hmm?" </p><p> </p><p>"<em> Shut up! </em>" Paul screamed suddenly, taking John by surprise.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not… I'm not a fag!" Paul tried to reason with himself. "I'm not-"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Had John been this close before..? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He was now a few feet away from Paul. </p><p> </p><p>"Don't act like your pretty little cock didn't enjoy it, <em> McCartney." </em>The sinister man teased. "Popped straight up as soon as I got my hands on ya!" </p><p> </p><p>John launched himself at Paul, who unfortunately turned towards the door and got himself pinned face first. The cold metal stung at his cheek as it was pressed rather harshly against it.</p><p> </p><p>"Help! Somebody help!" Paul screamed as loud as he could, hoping anyone would do something. </p><p> </p><p>This time, John wasn't having any of it. He slapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him away from the door, leading him back to the horrible cold desk it all started at. </p><p> </p><p>John threw Paul on the desk, his back slamming onto the surface, a small <em> fuck </em>leaving Paul's lips.</p><p> </p><p>"You've been a naughty boy, Paulie."</p><p> </p><p>John pulled at his trousers and underpants in a smooth motion, now completely exposed from the waist down.</p><p> </p><p>"You've let your knickers down!" </p><p> </p><p>Paul wanted to kick his face in, but John was quick to push his thighs down as he unzipped his pants. A hand was sliding up and down his thigh, making him squirm in his spot. It sent horrible goosebumps over his body.</p><p> </p><p>"You like that, princess?" John spoke in a bittersweet voice. "Like it when I touch you, pretty boy?" </p><p> </p><p>A pinch to his inner thigh caused him to shriek in surprise, and John laughed.</p><p> </p><p>Paul closed his eyes as the hands continued to assault him. He didn't even notice the pressure against his asshole until the head of John's cock popped into his <em> still </em> tight passage.</p><p> </p><p>"<em> Fuck, </em>McCartney." </p><p> </p><p>John hoisted Paul's legs around his waist, beginning with his cruelly fast pace. </p><p> </p><p>Paul turned away, squeezing his eyes shut as tears plopped against the wood underneath him. He clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might fracture it. The pain was as horrible as it was before. </p><p> </p><p>The sound of skin slapping against skin made him want to hurl. </p><p> </p><p>A sudden surge of unseeked pleasure ran through Paul, a gasp following suit. </p><p> </p><p>John seemed to have sensed this, for he angled himself and thrust, a moan emitting from Paul at that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What is wrong with me..? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It felt so good that it made the situation all more terrible.</p><p> </p><p>He shouldn't feel like this. He is being raped. By a much older man.</p><p> </p><p>And it feels great. </p><p> </p><p><em> You're disgusting. </em>Paul's brain screamed, but the surges of pleasure bolting through him made those thoughts vanish.</p><p> </p><p>The mix of pain and pleasure had his eyes rolling back, tear stained cheeks now going dry.</p><p> </p><p>"See? Told ya yer such a fucking queer." John mindlessly spoke.</p><p> </p><p>His cock was now fully hard as John continued having his way with Paul. His thrusts starting to become more erratic, and Paul was getting close to finishing himself.</p><p> </p><p>"So close, <em> Macca </em>."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Macca. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A stupid petname John had made up for him that he only used during classes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Mmph." Was the only thing Paul could respond with as the situation of if all was becoming too much for him. His eyes rolled back and his legs wrapped tightly around John's waist, unconsciously pulling him closer. He thrust his hips in the air, hot ribbons of semen falling right onto his chest as he rode out his orgasm until eventually John finished inside him, white spunk spilling onto the desk and floor as he pulled out his now flaccid cock.</p><p> </p><p>Paul was still shaken up over the fact that he came over this.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He came because of John fucking him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>John had already tucked himself into his pants, leaning over Paul and taking his chin in cold, bony hands. He watched Paul for a bit before leaning down and placing his lips onto Paul's, who tried to turn away, but the nails digging into his cheeks stopped him from doing so. He let it happen, laying motionless as John's tongue tasted every inch of his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>When he pulled away, Paul couldn't look at him. He remained motionless even after John told him he should be heading home. </p><p> </p><p>He eventually pushed himself up, the pain flaring over his ass as he sat slid off the desk. John was still there as he awkwardly went for his pants and slid them on. It was a drag pulling his leg up and feeling hot burning pain in his ass as he slid his pants on, tucking his shirt in and fixing his hair and tie. </p><p> </p><p>Paul winced as he walked towards his backpack on the floor by his desk, having to bend down and swing it over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>It felt like an eternity when he walked to the door that John had opened already.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How much time has passed? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>John was still there, watching and waiting for Paul to leave his classroom by the door.</p><p> </p><p>He managed to make his way out without stopping due to the intense pain.</p><p> </p><p>A wind blew by him as the door shut behind him.</p><p> </p><p>John pulled Paul's hair back, making him look up at John. A small kiss was placed on Paul's lips, although forced, it was warm and gentle.</p><p> </p><p>Something that should not be warm and gentle after what he'd done to Paul.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't forget the week after the next, you have another sessions with me, Mr. McCartney." </p><p> </p><p>With that, John walked down the hall and disappeared as he turned the corner. Paul waited until he heard the doors close down the hall, then slid down against the wall, sobs loud and messy.</p><p> </p><p>He slammed his backpack hard against the floor, a thud echoing through the eerily empty halls.</p><p> </p><p>He wished he hadn't come here today.</p><p> </p><p>Had he just gone home would it have been alright. He would be chatting up with his brother and father over dinner and tv. He could have been going over to Geo's to practice guitar. </p><p> </p><p>It was all his fault.</p><p> </p><p>He dug through his bag, looking him for something before pulling out a small switchblade he had hidden in there.</p><p> </p><p>Paul wished he could have used it against John. It would all have been so very different if he did. But he knew his backpack was in sight of Ringo when he came to check up on John, and Paul could just not let him be seen like...<em> that. </em></p><p> </p><p>He took the blade out, holding the sharp end to his forearm before making a small slice that caused small droplets of red to form over the old scabs.</p><p> </p><p>Minutes passed before Paul's forearms were covered in drops of blood, some streaming down to plop against his legs.</p><p> </p><p>Then he placed the blade tightly against his wrist.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>